The Draca Bealdor and The Wulf Bealdor
by OoLostGirloO
Summary: The Wolves have been a growing threat for the Lands of Albion for some time now, but something has changed, and the Wolves are advancing. Arthur travels to meet with the dragon lord King Mordred to form a treaty, and ends up meeting their salvation...


**Chapter 1**

**Fateful Meetings**

Arthur urged his horse onwards despite its agitated manor. The horses had been restless ever since crossing out of Camelot's realm but Arthur was determined to see this meeting through, if nothing else but to please his father. His most loyal knights accompanied him on his travels, Sir Gawain, Sir Lancelot, Sir Leon and Sir Kay. Despite Lancelot's non-royal birth Arthur had dubbed him a knight for saving his life, gaining him much displeasure from his father, but nothing he couldn't handle on his own.

But those impulsive days were quite behind Arthur now, he doubted, had Lancelot only saved him recently, he would have knighted him. This thought unsettled Arthur, for he did not regret it, but if he had lived by his father's wishes Lancelot would not be his companion to this day. Did that make his father wrong, or Arthur? Shaking his head to clear it Arthur pulled his horse to a standstill and glanced up at King Mordred's kingdom peaking above the trees in the evening light.

It was grand, though not as grad as Camelot's, Arthur amended. But it was suitable. For a dragon lord. Arthur's jaw clenched at the thought of sorcery, such power in the hands of a king. It was the main reason Arthur was on his mission, to form a peace treaty, they would not be allies, but they would keep their distance. Arthur urged his horse onwards.

"Come, we'll set up camp and continue in the morning," Arthur commanded his knights as his horse moved forwards towards a grove of trees, a low hung branch protruded from the closest for Arthur to slip the reins of his horse around.

.o0O0o.

Once more Arthur's dreams were filled with blue eyes, no face, no voice, and no smell. Just deep pools of blue. They were mesmerising, spell binding, enchanting, and a number of other adjectives Arthur could have use if he wasn't so drawn in by the heat and energy within those blue Safire's. Arthur had been having the same dream for months now, they seemed to go on for eons, but at the same time they were over in a flash and Arthur was left with only a vague idea of the beauty he'd witnessed.

Arthur woke slowly, gazing up into the canopy of trees above him, bathed in the pre-dawn light. Gawain was at his side, having rolled over off his mat and into the dirt between the two bed rolls. Lancelot and Kay were on the other side of the now dwindled fire, a light snore rising from the sleeping forms. Sitting up the blanket atop Arthur fell to his waist, subjecting Arthur to the cool morning air.

A light frost covered the ground and a few birds alighted the foggy morning with their voices. The morning was still and near silent as the world held its breath. Arthur took a moment to revel in the raw beauty in nature that surrounded him. But he soon pushed the feeling away, as well as his blanket. He stood and banked the fire before rousing his knights. They ate a light breakfast of salted meats and cheeses before heading off.

They arrived at the citadel as the sun cleared the last of the fog from the grounds an hour later. A troop of guards waited for them at the open gates and escorted them up to the castle and then to the throne room. As the double doors opened Arthur marvelled at the spacious room beyond. The room was carved from Marble, large pillars were positioned regularly along both walls and at the far side of the room a grand chair sat upon a large platform. Besides that the room was bare but for a marble table lying behind the pillars to the left of the room and a plain door to the far right of the chair.

A man draped in rich green and gold robes stood to the side of the chair. His ebony hair lay neatly across one eye and was pulled back into a low loose pony tail that reached his lower back. He turned as Arthur and his men stepped forward and his startlingly dark blue eyes turned on them.

"Ah, Prince Arthur," the man, Arthur assumed was Mordred, said stepping down from the platform. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I know your father doesn't fully approve of this alliance but I believe it will be beneficial for both parties involved," Mordred said with a slight inclination of his head. "The signing of the papers will be tonight before the banquet begins, for now we'll be going over the fine print," Mordred informed Arthur as he looked down at the papers that had materialised in his left hand. "If that suits you?" Mordred asked looking back up.

"My knights must be present over the proceedings," Arthur insisted.

"Yes of course of course," Mordred said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "As will mine."

"But first," Arthur said determinedly. "We must discuss the Wolves."

"Ah," Mordred murmured. "Yes," he handed off the papers as a uniformed servant moved to his side. "The Wolves, I hear they've reached Camelot's borders too."

"That they have, you know very well that's why we pushed the treaty signings date forward," Arthur stated as Mordred indicated for him to follow him to the table. Arthur's knights ghosted his footsteps but stopped short of the table as the prince and king sat at each end of the table.

"Yes, they have proved quite a nuisance," Mordred said airily, his teeth clenching subtly. The king had quite pale skin, creating a stark contrast between it and his hair. His eyes a vibrant beacon.

"I'm surprised it took so long for you to agree to a date when the Wolves have been at your door for so long. We were under the impression you had the threat under control, as it were," Arthur replied in the same dull tone.

"Yes well, we've been having some troubles with holding them at bay of late," Mordred replied off-handedly. "We're losing people every day with no survivors to speak of and no way to kill them and no way to hold them off," Mordred's cool façade began to chip.

"That's not entirely true though is it?" Arthur asked after a moment's pause. "What about your brother, Merlin?" Mordred looked to Arthur with a calculating gaze, eyes narrowed and hard.

"Well, Merlin hasn't been with us for some time now," Mordred all but growled.

"Really?" Arthur's voice betrayed some of the fear he felt, but his face remained hard. "Rumour says he is the only one to survive the wolves attack."

"_Survive?_ I'd use that term rather loosely in this respect if I were you," Mordred replied coldly. "But yes, he, _survived_ an attack by the wolves, but I fear you won't be able to talk to him. Like I said, he hadn't been around for some time now."

"But he did survive an attack, how?" Arthur asked sitting up straighter. If the rumours proved true, that meant they had a chance.

"He killed one," Mordred replied casually. "It must have taken them by surprise, they quickly retreated."

"He- So they can be killed?" Arthur gasped in shock, by all accounts the wolves had seemed immortal, beasts from the dawn of time, as old as magic itself. Mordred didn't reply, his jaw clenched and his eyes as cold as steal. He took a deep breath after a moment's pause and opened his mouth to reply when the door by the throne like chair across the room burst open with a mighty bag.

A guard went flying through the air in a great arch before coming to land across the far side of the room on the floor by the double door entrance. Mordred and Arthur were on their feet as guards piled into the room.

"Stop!" Mordred bellowed as the guards and Arthur's knights drew their swords. The room went silent as the knights stilled, the rattle of armour coming to a stop. Arthur worried for a moment if the treaty had been a trap, and then he saw the grave look that past the kings face. The knight who had been thrown across the room froze in a half crouch as all eyes turned to the door and the slumped figure shuffling forwards.

An oversized midnight blue robe fell from the bony boys shoulders revealing pale moonlight skin as he moved further into the room. Shot ebony hair stood up in messy tuffs and fell forward to obscure his eyes. His movements were jerky, almost as if he were stumbling with each step. Mordred moved forward slowly and met the boy halfway across the room who came to a swaying stop before the king.

With one bone white, long fingered hand, the boy touched the king's face in a gentle caress before sightless eyes turned on Arthur over the kings shoulder. The boy's hand fell and swung for a moment before he stumbled past the king and towards Arthur.

"Arthur." Arthur looked up from the boy advancing on him to the back of the king who had not moved an inch. "Whatever you do." The boy had stopped before Arthur now and looked up, his hair fell back to reveal his golden eyes, they shimmered like molten laver and with a heat that could rival the suns. "Do. Not. Move." In a much more graceful manner then previously displayed by the boy, he reached up and linked both his arms behind Arthur's neck, before bringing their lips together in a searing kiss.


End file.
